


sunset/moonrise

by dandelionbeach



Category: Inazuma Eleven, Inazuma Eleven: Ares no Tenbin, Inazuma Eleven: Orion no Kokuin
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Nosakas epic brain tumor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26362534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionbeach/pseuds/dandelionbeach
Summary: The sun has just started to set. Orange, pink, and purple hues streak the sky, lighting up the underbellies of wispy clouds. Dying rays shine across the barren fields of the outer grounds, lighting Nishikage's profile from the side.ORIn a few days, Nosaka will be undergoing brain surgery half a world away. Before he leaves, he spends his last day with his best friend.
Relationships: Nishikage Seiya/Nosaka Yuuma
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	sunset/moonrise

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank u to my beta, angeltalk.
> 
> The lack of nishinosa disappoints me, so ive decided to take matters into my own hands. They're my fave ship to come out of ares&orion. so in love.
> 
> Now presenting: top ten dandelionbeach sad gay moments

"When is it?"

"About a week from now. I leave in two days, on Tuesday morning."

They're in Nishikage's dorm at Outei, sitting on his bed. Nosaka is well aware that he's most likely violating school code by doing so, but he'd elected to ignore those rules long before now. His relationship with the administration is tense. It seems like his relationship with Nishikage is about to _become_ tense.

So he does what he’s best at.

"Don't worry about me. The surgery has a 100% success rate."

Lying. 

Nishikage's eyebrows are still drawn close together in a slight frown. 

"I know, Nosaka-san," he says. But his expression doesn't change.

Nosaka lifts his lips into a smile to further reassure Nishikage. 

The goalkeeper isn't stupid. He's right to be worried, but Nosaka would never admit that. Admitting so would admit to fear, pain, unsolvable problems. He needs him to be happy.

Plan B, then. Distraction.

"Help me pack." Nosaka says, and rises from the bed. 

In the language that the two of them have built between each other through the years, this is a request, and not an order. But both of them know that Nishikage is never going to refuse, so they skip the formalities. 

Nishikage gets up as well, and follows him out the door, walking at his usual place to the left and just a step behind Nosaka.

They're quiet as they make the short trip through the halls to Nosaka's dorm room. Everyone else is tucked away silently in their own rooms, most likely studying for whatever is to come on Monday. 

Nosaka doesn't have a lot of personal belongings, and he's not going to need much in the hospital. The suitcase will have room to spare. This diversion will be over far too soon. 

Packing mostly consists of folding up some of Nosaka's clothing and collecting spare toiletries. There’s not much that shouldn’t truly be done last minute, so packing together eventually devolves into Nosaka watching Nishikage fold clothes. He's methodical, technical, and the furthest thing from clinical. There's obvious caring under that poker face of his. 

Before Nosaka can even think about what he's saying, the words are out of his mouth.

"Skip class with me tomorrow."

It wouldn't come as a surprise if the tumor has destroyed his impulse control entirely. 

Nishikage looks up at him quickly, fumbling with the shirt he's holding. His poker face dissolves into a frown. The tensing of his jaw is familiar to Nosaka, the sign that he wants to say something but hasn't chosen the right words just yet. So he waits patiently.

"Skipping class would be detrimental to our grades. The administration would not be pleased," Nishikage says after a moment. He's not rejecting the idea.

"It's nothing you haven't done before," Nosaka replies easily, truthfully.

Reluctantly, Nishikage nods in agreement, like Nosaka knew he would. Because Nosaka also knows that he’s only pretending to care about missing school. 

"Alright, Nosaka-san," he relents, "I'll skip tomorrow with you."

Nosaka relaxes his face into a grateful smile. "Thank you, Nishikage," he says. He knows it was an odd request. The gamemaker is often the victim of whimsical ideas like this, flights of fancy, and usually he tries not to act on them. But right now is different, he thinks, as the likely outcome of what’s to happen in a few days breathes down his neck. Right now, there's nothing holding him back. Right now, while he has the chance, he should-

Should what? 

There's nothing to want, Nosaka reminds himself. To badly want something that doesn't benefit some greater good would be selfish. There's nothing to want.

Nishikage shifts, redirecting Nosaka's attention. The goalkeeper's calloused hand reaches forward, and then pulls hesitantly back.

"I'll see you in the morning," Nosaka promises pleasantly, sitting perfectly still. 

After a moment, Nishikage makes his way to the door, his movements slow. "Good night, Nosaka-san," he says, and gives him a long, lingering look before he opens the door. "Sleep well."

And then Nosaka is alone again. He has the sudden urge to throw his door open and call out to his friend, tell him not to go back to his own dorm. It's just another one of those fanciful thoughts he has, but he crushes it before it can fully compel him. 

Maybe there's still hope yet for the impulse control. 

But he's not going to worry about that now. Now, he has to figure out what exactly they're going to do tomorrow. 

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Nosaka has a headache. He's trying to ignore it as he and Nishikage ride the bus out from campus into the city, but he must not be hiding it well enough. Nishikage keeps giving him sidelong glances from his seat next to him. Not saying anything for now, but he might express some concern or rethink the skip day, so Nosaka speaks up to redirect his attention.

"You've been doing well in school lately," he says apropos of nothing. "I know you were worried that playing in the Football Frontier would harm your grades, but that never happened."

"Oh, yes," Nishikage is suddenly looking anywhere but Nosaka, "Thank you."

Works like a charm. Now that his friend is no longer worried, Nosaka can go back to staving off the urge to clutch at his eye, where pain gathers behind the socket. 

He hates to see Nishikage worried. This is unfortunate, because Nishikage is naturally a worrier. He always needs to do something, to fix a problem. They're alike in that way. He can't help Nosaka now.

But he can try, and the attempts don't go unnoticed. Nosaka knows there's a new bottle of painkillers in Nishikage's hoodie pocket. He'll never ask for them. Today is about having fun. 

"You never said where we’re going." Nishikage says.

"The mall."

"The mall? I thought you had something special in mind, Nosaka-san." His confusion is understandable, as the city mall is a place they often frequent during their free time. It's not something to skip class for. 

"I do," Nosaka grins, leaning in closer. "Just wait."

Nosaka watches Nishikage's face as the bus pulls up to their stop, gauging his expression. As expected, the goalkeeper’s eyes widen in wonder as the view becomes clear through the bus window.

It's not their usual mall.

The complex is huge, colorful, and bustling with people even now. Three stories of lights and bold signs and noise.

"There's a lot of different stores here," Nosaka tells Nishikage, looking up at him. "We can go anywhere you want."

Before he can respond, the two of them are caught up in a crush of people exiting the bus and swarming towards the mall entrance. In an old and well practiced habit, Nishikage catches Nosaka's hand in his larger one to stay together in the crowd.

It's not purely functional, anymore. Back when they were younger, when Nosaka was especially small and quiet and easily battered around, it was necessary. They're older now, both of them taller, stronger, and smarter, but the mannerism stays. Nosaka doesn't intend to put a stop to it any time soon. The rough, calloused hand in his. The warmth trapped between their palms.

He always finds himself very close to Nishikage, as if drawn by unconscious instinct to be near him. It's a unique phenomenon, one that he can’t remember ever happening with anyone else. 

They're still holding hands as they cross the threshold of sliding double doors into the mall. Nosaka briefly shuts his eyes against the blinding lights that reflect off of clean white walls. His hand tightens on Nishikage's momentarily. 

When he relaxes, Nishikage takes the loosening of his fingers as a cue to disentangle entirely. That's fine, Nosaka tells himself. It was inevitable. 

"Where to first?"

There's a lot to do here. It takes some consideration. 

In the end, it’s fairly obvious. Even in a new place, during a special occasion, they are creatures of habit.

Of course they’re going clothes shopping. 

“Are you even going to be able to wear any of this in the hospital?” Nishikage asks, watching as Nosaka rifles through the clearance rack of the priciest store they could find. 

“Probably not,” the pink haired boy admits, “but I still have to be the best looking patient in the surgical ward.” He glances up from his search to smirk at Nishikage, who gazes back flatly, unimpressed. 

"You should get something," Nosaka changes the subject, turning back to pick a top from the rack. "The green they have here would look good on you."

"I shouldn't," Nishikage refuses, "It's over there with the more expensive stuff. I need to save some money."

"Then I'll buy it for you," Nosaka answers immediately. 

"Nosaka-san, you really shouldn't," Nishikage protests, but Nosaka is already headed for a rack out in the rest of the store. "I don't need any more clothes."

Nosaka ignores him in favor of flipping through different articles. He takes two shirts, of the same color but differing styles, and holds them up to Nishikage.

"You already spend too much on me," Nishikage still hasn't given up trying to deter Nosaka. It's a futile quest. 

Nosaka puts one back on the rack, selecting the dark green, short sleeved button down. Then he turns for the dressing rooms, beckoning his friend to follow. 

For all his protestation, Nishikage follows loyally along. 

The dressing rooms are a serve-yourself sort of situation. Perfect. Nosaka locates one of the larger stalls, throws open the door, and drags Nishikage in with him.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Nishikage asks nervously. He's blushing. Interesting. 

"How else am I supposed to make sure you try this on?" Nosaka points out cheekily, and pushes the green shirt into Nishikage's hands. It's not a big deal. They've changed in front of each other countless times in the soccer club locker room. 

"I'll, uh, I'll go in a different stall and then come back-" 

"No need for that. We're already in this one."

They stare at each other for a minute of unblinking eye contact.

Nosaka has never once lost a staring contest. He knows the outcome.

Predictably, Nishikage sighs and turns around. He takes off and folds up his outer jacket, placing it neatly on the only chair in the room. 

Then, with hesitant hands, he begins to pull off his hoodie. 

Revealing the skin of his lower back. 

Nosaka watches with interest and no guilt whatsoever. He finds himself anticipating what he'll see when the hoodie comes all the way off.

He doesn't get to see much. Nishikage is, of course, wearing a thin white undershirt. Disappointing.

Slowly, keeping his back to Nosaka, the goalkeeper slides his arms into the new shirt and buttons it up. And then he turns around.

Nishikage looks good. Really good. That's not unusual for him, Nosaka thinks, but he's outdoing himself right now. Or maybe Nosaka has outdone himself? He did pick the shirt, after all. Wow. He looks so good.

Thoughtlessly, Nosaka steps into Nishikage's personal space to fuss with the shirt collar, and pops the top button back open. 

His long fingers linger in the fabric for a moment. Even when his hands do come down, work complete, Nosaka doesn't back away.

"Um," Nishikage says, craning his neck to look down into his face.

"You should wear short sleeves more often," Nosaka blurts out. His tone is as smooth and calm as always, but he didn't actually mean to say that. He's still talking. He needs to stop talking. "Shows off your arms."

Nishikage blinks down at him, face coloring pink. Nosaka forces himself to step away and gestures to the mirror he had been standing in front of.

"Well? Do you like it?"

The brunet scrutinizes his reflection. And after a moment, nods hesitantly.

Nosaka can feel himself smiling. "I'm getting it for you, then."

"Okay. Thank you, Nosaka-san," Nishikage replies, conceding defeat. Once Nosaka has decided to buy something, nothing short of brute force can dissuade him.

"My turn," Nosaka says cheerfully, and takes off his shirt. 

In the blink of an eye, Nishikage has turned back around and hidden his face. Presumably this is to give the game maker some privacy, but Nosaka doesn't really need it. He's never been uncomfortable with his body, especially not around his best friend. Either way, it doesn't take him long to put on the top he'd picked out for himself and turn to the mirror. 

As he admires his reflection, he can see Nishikage's as well, and the way those narrow gray eyes watch him, trace the lines of his body. 

Then, their gazes lock. Nishikage blushes furiously and Nosaka turns around to make proper eye contact.

"I don't mind," he says gently. "It's okay to look."

"Are y- are you going to get that?" Nishikage stammers out, avoiding the topic at hand. 

Nosaka looks down and picks at the dark fabric. "No," he decides after a moment, "I don't think I'll buy any of this."

All he ends up purchasing is the shirt he picked for Nishikage. Once they're back out into the open hall, something on the floor above catches his eye.

A giant food court sign. 

Not a bad idea, Nosaka thinks, and tugs on Nishikage's sleeve to direct his attention. "Let's go have lunch."

It may be a little early for it, but no outing of theirs would be complete without stopping to eat. The pair of them locate a staircase to the upper floor.

“What do you want to get?” Nosaka asks as they reach the top of the staircase, food court finally in sight. Nishikage hums and scans the options thoughtfully.

“I’m not picky,” he shrugs, “we can get anything you want.”

“If I’m picking, I’m paying, too,” Nosaka warns him teasingly. He has little concern for money right now. The best thing he can do with what he gets from the school is use it to take care of his best friend.

“Nosaka-san, you don’t have to,” Nishikage tries once more to protest, but it’s too late. Nosaka is already taking his wallet out. 

The food court has a surprising number of young people in it. Whether their schools have more lenient times or if they're skipping as well is unclear. There are a few groups of people he suspects to be old enough to be out of school already.

As they go up to order, selecting a vendor at random, the smell of freshly cooked food wafts over them. And when the smells hit Nosaka, so does a wave of nausea. Nishikage is going to end up eating both of their lunches, again. It’s almost routine at this point. 

The food piled onto their trays at the vendors looks delicious. Once again, he’s ordered something he’s never heard of before. Ideally, he’d be trying it, but Nosaka would prefer if he didn’t end up vomiting today. 

Trays in hand, the two of them wade out into the crowd and clutter, heading for an empty two-person table somewhere near the center of the dining area. 

Gaggles of boys and girls talk and laugh and eat together at tables all around them. The few pairs of two, Nosaka notices, all consist of a girl and a boy, going on dates. Pairs of people sitting across from each other and talking intently, the world narrowed down to just each other. The positioning and mannerisms of these couples bear an uncanny resemblance to the way he and Nishikage are sitting. Across from each other at a small table and still leaning forward to be nearer, legs tucked close but not quite touching.

If one of those couples were to look over at him and his friend, Nosaka wonders, would they also see what he sees now? 

"The coach is not going to react well when we miss practice," Nishikage speaks up idly, bringing Nosaka's attention back to him. "He's going to be disappointed."

He doesn't seem particularly upset, stabbing at his order with a plastic fork. 

"Are you disappointed?" Nosaka asks him in favor of talking shit about their Coach, another beloved pastime of theirs.

Nishikage shakes his head firmly, without hesitation.

"Then it'll be okay," Nosaka says, his smile deliberately small and soothing. "It doesn't matter what he thinks. I only care what _you_ think."

Nishikage turns his head away bashfully.

Nosaka is seized by the urge to make sure Nishikage knows how grateful Nosaka is for him and everything he’s done. Nishikage seems to sometimes be blind to the fact that Nosaka has only gotten as far as he has due to the support of his only friend. They've pulled each other out of dark places into lighter ones an uncountable amount of times. Nosaka wouldn't even be here without Nishikage, he's certain of it. 

His game making mind has generated the perfect way to express his gratitude.

"Here," he holds out one of his french fries across the table, "eat this."

Nishikage blinks at him. Nosaka waves the fry enticingly until the offering is accepted. And when Nishikage is finished with that fry, Nosaka leans forward and gives him another. 

They continue in this way until the fry carton is empty. 

“You haven’t touched your food.” Nishikage says, brow furrowed, gesturing to Nosaka's untouched lunch. 

"Would you like some?" Nosaka takes this as an opportunity to push the tray across the table.

"Nosaka-san," Nishikage says, tone close to stern, "you have to eat something. "

"I had a big breakfast," Nosaka lies, "I'm not even hungry."

Going a little hungry will not ruin this day. Puking his guts out in public will, though. 

Nosaka’s eyes trace the soft worry lines by Nishikage’s eyes, the way he bites the inside of his cheek, the proximity of their hands on the table. It would be so easy to reach out and take his hand, to run his fingers over those calluses formed by days and days of play.

It’ll be fine. 

Besides, it's easy to ignore the pain in his head when he has something as wonderful as Nishikage to focus on.

* * *

The bus ride back to Outei's grounds is quiet. A sleepy, contemplative silence has enveloped Nosaka. He feels as though he and his companion exist in a space separate from all the strangers on the bus, separate from the rest of the world. 

It's nostalgic. Really, Nishikage is the only person Nosaka's ever had. Even after years of friendship, sometimes he still doesn't know what to do, how to be near to someone. It's getting easier all the time. 

Getting off at the school's stop is much calmer than their exit to the mall earlier today. All the same, Nosaka wishes Nishikage would grab onto his hand again, if only for something stabilizing. Standing up has sent his head spinning. 

He follows his companion down the bus stairs in wobbly, unsure steps, gripping tight to the handrail. 

It’s nothing. This happens all the time. His head will stop spinning soon.

Vaguely, through the faint ringing in his ears, he can hear the bus pull away. Black closes in on his peripherals, narrowing his vision down to a fuzzy tunnel. His legs are still functioning, but they're steadily growing heavier, clumsier.

Nosaka makes it a few feet before his body gives out completely.

Oh. He may have underestimated the severity of this episode.

Before he can process what's happening, he's on the ground, skin scraping against hard concrete.

Nishikage is calling his name, over and over, increasingly frantic as Nosaka does not respond.

When his vision finally stops tunneling, he realizes that Nishikage is kneeling down on the ground beside him, appearing to be seconds away from picking Nosaka up and sprinting to the nearest hospital.

"Hi," Nosaka says.

The tension goes out of Nishikage's shoulders and he slumps forward with a sigh of relief.

"Are you alright?" He asks.

"Of course." Nosaka sits up and is instantly hit with another headrush. He tries to get his legs back underneath himself, but they're not cooperating. His limbs feel as if they're encased in thick molasses. Slow, heavy, unstable.

A second of silence passes as Nishikage waits for Nosaka to get up. He stays firmly on the ground.

“Um...Nosaka-san," Nishikage starts, awkward like he's unsure of himself. "Do you need help?"

 _No_ , Nosaka wants to reply. He never needs help. There's nothing he can't do alone. But when his eyes focus on Nishikage, something in his chest softens. Maybe he doesn't need help - but he'll take it anyway, from the only one to offer.

He can always blame this lapse in self control on the tumor, too.

"Could you help me up?" Nosaka asks pleasantly, like he's requesting a favor. In an instant, Nishikage is beside him, throwing Nosaka's arm over his broad, well muscled shoulders. 

Standing up doesn't go as planned. Nosaka's legs are too uncooperative and too long for him to do anything but trip over them. He's still not going anywhere.

"It'll be better in a moment," he promises Nishikage, who gives him a doubtful look.

And then, smoothly and easily, Nishikage leans over and sweeps Nosaka off of his feet, holding his emperor in a princess carry.

Hm. Nosaka wasn't expecting that.

"You need to see the nurse." Nishikage says firmly, and sets off the path towards the school with shopping bags dangling from his arms.

There's another name for this kind of hold. Through Nosaka's brainfog, it takes him a moment to remember what it's called.

Bridal style.

The sun has just started to set. Orange, pink, and purple hues streak the sky, lighting up the underbellies of wispy clouds. Dying rays shine across the barren fields of the outer grounds, lighting Nishikage's profile from the side. 

This sight is one Nosaka could get used to. His legs dangle off the side of Nishikage's arm and he stares blatantly at his beautiful friend. Nosaka thinks he could see that face every day of his life and never tire of it. It's akin to standing enraptured before a famous work of art. 

It's then that Nishikage turns his head to make eye contact, most likely to see if Nosaka is alright. Nosaka is sure that, if his hands were not full, Nishikage would be brushing aside his rose colored hair, checking his forehead for a fever. 

Having someone care so deeply about him is overwhelming. And in return, the feeling of caring for someone else so deeply is nearly too much to bear. 

Nosaka doesn’t want to leave him.

He brings his free arm up to wrap around Nishikage's neck.

"Nosaka-san," the boy who carries him speaks softly, "we'll change the world together, won't we?"

"Yes, we will." Nosaka assures him, and those calloused hands adjust to hold him tighter. "Together."

Nishikage's expression melts into a warm smile. Nosaka knows it's hard for him to do this, to fight back fear and anger, worry and hurt. But there's nothing in his question but love.

The walls of Outei loom before them now, casting long black shadows against the dead grass, stained orange by the setting sun. The buildings are nearly stark and gloomy as shadows themselves. The sight of this place is far from comforting, but what place is? Places don't bring comfort. 

People do.

"You can put me down now," Nosaka tells him, despite how nice it is to be held, carried, supported. The administration of Outei would never stand for such behavior. He can't get Nishikage in any more trouble than he already is.

Just because consequences may no longer exist for Nosaka doesn't mean that's true for anyone else.

Slowly, Nishikage sets him down. He doesn't release his steady hold until the game maker is standing by himself, not even swaying. 

Once it's clear that the episode is over, Nishikage turns to open the door to the school.

On impulse, Nosaka snags his hand and pulls him back.

"What's wrong?"

"Nishikage…" Nosaka isn't sure where he's going with this. He's so used to carefully planning his sentences, calculating his every move, but the words just fall out. Like they often do around his oldest and only companion. "Promise that you won't forget about me."

There's a split second of silence as Nishikage processes, and he responds: "I could never forget you. You won't be gone for very long. You're coming back in a month."

Nosaka smiles weakly, but it feels as though the facade is dissolving, washing away. "I'm coming back," he repeats, hollow. 

They're standing so close now. They've always been in each other's spaces, ever since the beginning, but it's different this time. Because consequences don't exist for Nosaka anymore, and he's going to give in to one last selfish impulse.

Nosaka reaches up and takes Nishikage's face in his hands, slowly running a thumb over the line of his cheekbone. And then he's rising up onto the balls of his feet, and then he's leaning in, and then his eyes are fluttering shut.

It's his first kiss. 

Nishikage kisses him back without hesitation, open mouthed, arms curling around his torso. Tilting his head downwards to seal the kiss. 

Here and now, nothing else matters. The stress and pain of the outside world has dissipated into nothing. Nosaka doesn't think he'll ever come up for air. It feels too good, the way their lips slide together, the way they hold each other close.

It's not close enough. Not even with every line of their bodies pressed tight together. Nishikage is clinging to him like a lifeline, and yet somehow Nosaka feels distant even with his tongue in his mouth.

When they finally separate, it's impossible to tell how much time has passed. The kiss could've lasted seconds or hours. Nosaka can hear himself breathing hard, and he vaguely wonders if the dizzy spell is back, or if this is just what it feels like to be in love. 

All he can do is stare at the boy in front of him, who's flushed a deep, watermelon pink. 

Neither of them say a word. 

On the distant horizon, the moon makes itself visible, a crescent of silver steadily growing brighter against the darkening sky.

  
  



End file.
